


Mechanic

by last_system_lord



Series: Enemy Amongst Us [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Post-Continuum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 13:25:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3651990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/last_system_lord/pseuds/last_system_lord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's car was not the same when she picked it up from the mechanics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mechanic

Sam collected her car keys from the front desk at the mechanics - and returned the rental car they’d lent her-, hoping that they’d managed to get that annoying rattle out of her engine. If not, she’d have to find the time to pull it apart herself and figure out what the issue was, but god knew when she’d find the time. Even with the Goa’uld and Ori gone, there was still more than enough work to do at Stargate Command; they actually had time to examine properly some of the technology they’d discovered over the years.

The Asgard technology alone could mean decades of work just to scratch the surface. Vaguely, Sam wondered whether this was how the scientists on Atlantis would feel, if there was ever a day when they wouldn’t have to worry about the wraith.

Sam pulled on to the motorway and pressed lightly down on the accelerator.

The car leapt forward as if it had been catapulted. The car in front loomed close in the windscreen and Sam’s instincts kicked in as she slammed on the break.

‘What the hell…?’

Sam gently, carefully, eased her foot back down on the accelerator and again the car jumped forward with way more power than it had previously been capable.

Sam scowled, wondering what on Earth the mechanic had done to her car’s engine. She pulled over onto the hard shoulder, swearing; she did _not_ have time for this, she had a tone of work to do on the Asgard time dilation research.

Throwing open the car bonnet, Sam wondered how long it would take to head back and complain, and then she froze. The thing in her car was definitely not the engine that had been there just the day before.

In fact, if she didn’t know better, she would have sworn it was naquadah powered.

Sam narrowed her eyes and inspected the contraption more closely. It was totally indisputable, utterly unbelievable, kinda cool and definitely naquadah powered. It could also only be the work of one person. 

Slamming the bonnet and swinging herself back in, Sam cautiously drove her car back to the mechanic. She didn’t bother to stop in the public parking, despite a confused employee’s protests, and drove it straight around the back to the workshop.

A car was parked in the workshop with its bonnet up and Sam could see someone was behind the bonnet, working on the engine. Right height, right build, wrong type of fashion sense, but Sam could feel a slight tingle in the naquadah in her blood. Squashing last minute misgivings, she got out of her car and approached.

‘Does this mean you actually learnt to drive?’

Stepping back from the car and wiping the oil from his hands on a nearby cloth, Ba’al smirked. ‘Of course. It was hardly a difficult skill to master, your machines _are_ very simple.’

Ignoring the inexplicable urge to smile back, Sam scowled. ‘Actually, strangely enough, mine’s not so simple anymore.’

‘I thought you would like the modifications,’ said Ba’al, moving towards her and looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

Sure, the car’s engine _was_ cool, but Sam didn’t have the time to look it over properly… and nor did she trust it.

‘I would _like_ my old engine back,’ she replied, keeping her tone stern. Then she asked, because her curiosity demanded it; ‘Why change it anyway? Shouldn’t you be trying to stay hidden?’

Ba’al gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘Ah, but your technology _is_ simple, you know. I was staying hidden, but then I saw your name and…’ He shrugged, ‘What can I say? I was bored.’

‘And you just happened to have some spare naquadah lying around?’ Sam asked accusingly, seriously questioning the wisdom of not reporting him immediately. Last time Ba’al had been messing with naquadah on Earth, he’d nearly taken out Seattle.

‘Only a small amount,’ replied Ba’al, his tone slightly defensive. ‘And none of it in the local buildings, I assure you.’

‘Oh, I feel much better now.'

‘So you should.’ Ba’al checked his watch and raised his eyebrows at her. ‘I must finish this engine today, however I am then finished for the day. There is a pleasant café around the corner.’

Sam stared at him, and it took a serious effort to stop her mouth from dropping open. ‘Are you kidding me?’

‘I _could_ just leave your engine the way it is,’ Ba’al pointed out.

‘ _I_ could just fix it myself,’ Sam returned, getting irritated. ‘Also, _I_ could report _you_ to the SGC.’

‘But you won’t,’ said Ba’al confidently.

‘Oh really?’ Sam took out her phone.

Ba’al leaned against the car, met her gaze and held it. Sam narrowed her eyes at him and made a show of looking through her contacts, because she was absolutely going to hand him in; she should have done it already and now she could give them his exact location. Ba’al raised his eyebrows again and made a ‘go ahead’ gesture and Sam caved, putting the phone away again.

Ba’al smiled. ‘I will see you in an hour, Samantha.’

‘Sure you will,’ said Sam scornfully, although she knew she’d be there. If nothing else she should keep an eye on him, although she had to admit she was curious.

She left her car at the mechanics, and drove away in the rental.

___________________________

The café was easy enough to find. Sam stood outside on the pavement, regarding it and wondering whether Ba’al would have even turned up. Really, it was very unlikely. After all, he had no guarantee that she wouldn’t just turn up with a team of marines. No, he wouldn’t be there, he’d be miles away. She didn’t have to be at the SGC until that evening and she was already there, so Sam decided to grab a coffee anyway.

Sam pushed open the door and walked in.

Ba’al was sitting at a table, in plain view, both elbows resting on the table like he hadn’t a care in the world. He’d changed his clothes too, from the simple tank top and jeans to a crisp, black suit.

Briefly, Sam imagined the look of surprise on his face if she _had_ turned up with a team of marines. She raised her eyes to the ceiling, questioning her sanity; she was going to have coffee with Ba’al. Voluntarily.

‘Fixed my car yet?’ Sam asked as cheerfully as she could manage, sitting down opposite him.

The familiar smirk appeared and Ba’al leaned back in his chair. ‘Your car works fine, Samantha.’

Sam opened her mouth to disagree when a waitress turned up and asked brightly; ‘Can I take your order?’

‘Large Espresso,’ said Ba’al smoothly, as if he’d been ordering coffee his whole life.

‘I’ll have the same, thank you,’ said Sam, struggling not to laugh as the absurdity of her situation hit home.

Sam waited until the waitress was safely out of earshot and then asked, ‘So how many engines have you ‘upgraded’ so far?’

She was getting nasty images of thousands of cars powered by ticking time bombs.

‘Oh just yours, Samantha,’ said Ba’al, looking at her far more intensely than Sam was comfortable with.

‘Right.’ Sam nodded, wondering if he was lying through his teeth. Probably. ‘You _were_ trying to stay under the radar, couldn’t have too many people coming back to complain to you.’

Ba’al snorted. ‘I would not be the one dealing with the complaints.’

Of course he’d find that beneath him, Sam thought. He was used having an army of slaves.

‘Yeah, I bet you’ve made sure your minions take care of that.’ Sam considered Ba’al in customer service for a few seconds and then added thoughtfully; ‘Might be for the best.’

‘Perhaps you’re right.’ Ba’al grinned and Sam couldn’t help grinning back.

The waitress appeared out of nowhere, depositing both drinks on the table. ‘Here you go.’

Sam thanked her while Ba’al leaned forward, wrapping both hands around his mug.

Looking around to make sure no-one could hear them, Sam also leant forward. ‘So what’s your current plan for galactic domination?’

‘If I was planning anything, do you truly believe I would have made contact with you?’ Ba’al asked, waving a hand dismissively. ‘I came here for sanctuary before, and I am doing so again.’

Sam took a sip of her coffee and lowered her voice further. ‘Last time you detonated a building and cloned yourself.’

Ba’al appeared to consider that for a second. ‘It’s possible I could have handled that… better.’

‘You can say that again.’

Sam rubbed her temples and took a long drink from her coffee. If she couldn’t find out what he was up to, then she’d _have_ to hand him in. Behind Ba’al, the waitress swung past their table back towards the kitchen and winked at Sam, giving her a discrete thumbs up. Sam choked on her coffee.

‘What?’ Ba’al asked, turning to see if there was someone creeping up behind him.

‘Nothing,’ Sam said quickly, nearly missing Ba’al’s suspicious look. So he wasn’t as relaxed as he appeared. ‘No, really. I just breathed in at the wrong time.’

‘I see.’ Ba’al narrowed his eyes.

Sam frowned back at him. ‘This isn’t where you tell me the café will blow up if anyone else approaches, is it?’

‘Why? Is that likely to be a problem?’ There was amusement dancing in Ba’al’s eyes, but Sam knew that didn’t necessarily mean he was joking.

Sam sighed. ‘If you start trying to blow things up again, we _will_ ship you off to the Tok’ra.’

‘My, my, Samantha, that’s not very pleasant.’ Ba’al lifted his coffee. ‘There is no bomb, I assure you.’

‘Can you prove that?’

Ba’al shrugged. ‘As your saying goes; you cannot prove a negative.’

‘If you’re threatening my planet…’ Sam began, making sure there was still no-one close enough to overhear.

‘I’m not the one making threats.’

That derailed Sam’s thoughts as effectively as anything could. Wow. What did it say about her that she’d lost the moral high ground against _Ba’al_?

‘The few times we’ve run into you, you’ve always been planning some kind of destruction. Just because you’re not overtly making threats, that doesn’t mean you aren’t planning to, say, enslave the whole population.’ It was difficult to keep her voice down as her irritation level increased.

Ba’al laughed. ‘You can relax. Your planet’s population is safe from me; even a God needs more resources than I have to rule a planet.’

Sam ground her teeth, wishing he would keep his voice down. ‘You are _not_ a God.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ said Ba’al. ‘I am just a harmless mechanic.’

‘About that,’ said Sam, refusing to laugh, ‘How can I expect you to keep under the radar when you’re already bored enough to be altering my car? Using naquadah of all things, which you’re going to have to hand over, by the way.’

‘I _have_ handed it over,’ Ba’al pointed out. ‘It’s in your car.’

Sam rolled her eyes. ‘The _rest_ of it.’

Ba’al raised his hands as if to ward off her protests. ‘That _is_ all of it. It was merely some left over from last time I was here; I have hardly been in a position to bring in more. If I were truly planning something, I would hardly have alerted you by placing naquadah in your car.’

He was, Sam supposed, smart enough for that to be true, but he was also devious enough for it to be a double bluff. Although maybe… maybe he actually did intend to stay under the radar on Earth, unlikely as it seemed.

Sam checked her watch; 17:30, she was due back at the SGC for a meeting in an hour. Still time then, but not much.

‘I _am_ curious how we haven’t detected you. Weren’t you all supposed to have locator beacons that you couldn’t remove?’ asked Sam, not expecting a proper answer.

‘But I do have a locator beacon,’ said Ba’al. ‘I am merely jamming it.’

Sam froze, coffee halfway to her mouth. ‘What?’

‘Surely even you, as a Tau’ri, can grasp the concept of jamming a signal,’ Ba’al replied, setting down his empty coffee mug. ‘As you say, I cannot remove it, but you were clearly using them to track us, so I felt the need to take action.’

That explained why, when she’d been held at the Trust facility with him, Stargate Command hadn’t been able to pick up her subcutaneous transmitter; it must be just similar enough to Ba’al’s that his jamming signal hid it.

‘How did you stop the Trust group from finding it?’ Sam asked intrigued, he had to have concealed the technology very well for them to have missed it.

‘It’s implanted, much like the beacon itself,’ Ba’al said, sounding smug. ‘It is more or less undetectable.’

Sam was impressed. In a perfect world, she would love to ask him exactly how that technology worked, specifically, how it was powered, but a look at her watch told her she needed to get going.

‘I need to go,’ Sam told him, standing up from the table. ‘You’re paying.’

Ba’al snorted. ‘I always intended to.’

‘I’ll come to collect my car, with its original engine, tomorrow morning,’ Sam added. ‘ _And_ I want the naquadah.’

‘You may have the naquadah.’ Making a dismissive gesture, Ba’al sighed. ‘It _does_ seem a shame to dismantle the engine.’

Sam rolled her eyes and stood up from the table. ‘Normal car and naquadah, tomorrow morning. Oh, and don’t think you have a free reign here, I _will_ be keeping an eye on you.’

Ba’al smirked. ‘I look forward to it.’

Grimacing, Sam tried to execute a tactical retreat, then remembered his escape from the police and turned back to him. ‘And I want the Sodan cloaking device, too.’

‘What Sodan cloaking device?’ asked Ba’al and winked.

Sam just shook her head; that was one battle she would fight later.

Meeting with Ba’al was aggravating, slightly stressful and probably the most fun she’d had all week. Maybe, Sam thought, she _would_ drop by every now and then. Just to make sure he wasn’t plotting world domination, of course.


End file.
